20. Julian
TWENTY
JULIAN
Neon and fluorescent lights line the boardwalk. It’s a little dizzying. It feels like a completely different world down here, the smell of rain mixed with fried dough and greasy food clinging to the air.
I’ve never liked fast rides. They make my stomach turn and my pulse feel too loud. It’s a little overstimulating, but Ian’s fingers haven’t slipped out of mine since we began to walk down here. It’s giving me a point to focus on. Every now and then he gives me a soft squeeze.
“Did you go to fairs growing up?” I ask him.
He glances at me with a smile. “Yeah, my parents took me when I was a kid. My dad didn’t ride much, but my mom always came with me.
His dad. The words hang between us. Ian never talks about him. I know he died when Ian was in high school, but that’s about it.
“You don’t talk much about him,” I say carefully, afraid to pop this bubble.
Ian’s quiet for a moment. The noise around us swells and crashes.
Someone is shouting. A loud bell rings through the air.
A thrilled scream splits between us. Finally, he exhales.
“He got sick when I was in high school. There wasn’t much the doctors could do.
He always avoided doctors at all costs.” His jaw tightens.
“It wrecked my mom. She’s happier now, I think. We don’t talk much, though.”
“Not a good relationship?”
“No.” He smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Just distant. Even when he was alive, she really didn’t know what to do with me.
When he died it was like she was stuck in the house with a stranger she was responsible for.
” He flips his arm, revealing numbers inked into his skin.
“That’s his birthday and the date he passed.
” I look at the ribbon around a bleeding heart. “What about yours?”
“I don’t really know much,” I admit. “My mom and gramma raised me until my gramma passed. I was in elementary school when she died. They were more than enough. I’ve never felt like I was missing anything.”
“Your mom sounds incredible,” Ian says softly. “I wish I could’ve met her.”
That makes my chest ache. “She would’ve told you to keep my ass in line.” I laugh a little. “She was worried about me a lot. She was an amazing mom, but she didn’t understand how my brain works. She thought I was just hyper and unfocused.”
“You have ADHD, right?”
I nod. “We fought about school a lot. I understood the material I was learning growing up, it just all fell apart with tests and homework. Everything I’d learned would evaporate in a written test, but if you asked me a question, I knew the answers.
Reading assignments were my number one enemy.
I just couldn’t focus on them. I could reread the pages a hundred times and still absorb nothing.
I tried planners, notes, nothing worked.
I thought something was wrong with me.” I swallow.
“Then, when I was a freshman in college, I had this professor who recognized patterns with me. She gave me different assignments. Not written homework or reading, tangible things I could manage and keep my focus on. It was like everything clicked for me. Once I stopped fighting my brain and forcing it to do something it isn’t wired to do, I felt like everything just made so much more sense. ”
“The sticky notes?” Ian says.
I smile. “Yeah. Schedules fall apart. I can plan my day as much as I want, but I can’t force my brain to do things it doesn’t want to do.
It just ends with me being unproductive.
It’s like my brain freezes and I can’t think.
If I have tasks to do, I put them on a sticky note and stick them to my mirror at work.
I accomplish them when I can. Pulling the notes down when I do them feels like a little reward.
If I can’t do something, I don’t beat myself up over it anymore. ”
A scream rips through the air. A kid barrels between us, forcing our hands apart. Ian laughs, looking up at the darkening sky. Something soft settles over his expression. On impulse I lace my fingers back with his. I don’t want to let them go.
A booth worker shouts at us, trying to lure us into a game. “Bet I could win you one,” I tease.
“I don’t want a stuffed animal that costs less than the admission fee,” Ian says. “Save your money.” He breaks our fingers but then wraps his arm through mine, hugging it. Casual and devastating. His lips brush my shoulder, and the small contact sends a thrill up my spine.
To anyone watching we probably look like a couple. Easy and natural. They can’t see the chaos grinding in my chest. “Oh yes.” Ian tugs me to a booth. “We are absolutely doing this.”
“The shitty stuffed animals are a no, but an airbrushed T-shirt is a yes?” Ian laughs at this.
“I always wanted one of these when I was younger.” Ian smiles, stepping forward. “I want your name on it.” The employee looks at us then Ian orders first. “I’d like mine to say Jules.” He glances back at me. “With a crown on the J.”
My mind blanks as they both wait for me. “Uh, anything is fine. With the name Ian.”
While we wait, Ian’s arms slide around my waist. “You’ve gone quiet,” he murmurs. “What’s going on?”
Everything.
Every feeling I’ve choked down for years is bubbling to the surface. This week has blurred lines I was never supposed to cross. I’m terrified of what happens when we leave.
I want to tell him I love him. That I’ve loved him for a long time. That he’s not just my best friend, he’s the person I imagine my life around.
I’m afraid of how heavy this truth would land on him, though.
Just when he’s starting to find himself again.
What if it destroys all this progress? It would all be for nothing.
What if I tell him I love him and he freezes, or tells me he can’t do that with me?
Not now, or ever. What then? Do I just go on like we didn’t spend the best two weeks of my life together?
There are too many what-ifs, and not one what-if contains an ounce of confidence.
Not one of these voices says, what if he does love me back? “What’s going on, Jules?” he murmurs.
I swallow down these thoughts and tuck them away for later. We’re having fun and I don’t want to ruin it. “I’m just thinking about how happy I am. Happy to be here with you,” I answer. It’s not a lie, just not the complete truth.
Ian studies me, then sneaks a quick kiss. “I’m happy I’m here with you too,” he whispers then presses a firmer kiss to the corner of my mouth. “There’s no one else I’d rather be here with.”
What is this, Ian?
“Here you go.” The man hands us both our folded shirts and Ian opens his, smiling.
His is baby blue and black with the gold crown sparkling above my name.
He hands me mine and I see Ian’s name in red and black with hearts framing it.
Ian tugs his on and I follow, the sharp smell of paint stinging my nose.
He takes my hand and leads me forward for a few minutes while we take in everything and all the chaos. Ian stops suddenly, looking up at the looming Ferris wheel. “No,” I say instantly.
Ian grins. “If there were ever a moment to conquer your fears.”
“That isn’t conquering a fear, Ian, it’s insanity.” I don’t trust carnival rides as it is. The idea that all this shit was built overnight doesn’t sit right with me. This thing is tall as fuck, and Ian is apparently insane.
“It could be fun.”
“It could also be traumatic.” With the way he’s looking at me, I already know I’m going to cave. “I hate you.”
He laughs, pulling me toward the operator.
I must black out because next thing I know the safety bar is being slammed down with a final clank.
The boardwalk shrinks as the wheel lifts.
It gets to a certain height and I can’t watch anymore.
Our cart sways, making my stomach swoop, and I stare straight ahead, refusing to look down.
“I’ve got you.” He grips my hand. “Look.” The ocean stretches to our right. Smooth like glass, reflecting the moon in the water below.
“How the fuck do they even put this thing together?”
His thumb smooths over my knuckles.
I look at him. Really look at him.
Loving him is more terrifying than the height. If he doesn’t feel the same, and this is all temporary vacation fun, I don’t think I’ll survive the fallout.
Near the top, the car lurches to a stop, and Ian’s hand slides onto my thigh, grounding me. Warm and solid. “You can’t tell Anna about this,” I manage. “She’ll use it as ammunition.”
He laughs. “Whatever happens on the wheel stays on the wheel.”
My world narrows as he kisses me.
His mouth is soft, slow and unhurried. My future crashes into me.
Perfect little flashes of the life I want so badly.
Waking up together. Going home together after work.
Kissing him when I see him. Touching and hugs.
Weekends spent on the couch watching movies, just existing side by side.
It may seem like mundane shit, but it’s my dream. It’s what I want more than anything.
I want him to be mine.
Ian breaks the kiss and pulls me into his chest. I melt against him, hugging him around the waist. I can’t go back after this.
There’s no undoing it.
“Tonight is a great night,” Ian murmurs against my temple. I can’t speak. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I just stare ahead as the wheel descends. My arm around him gets tighter.
There’s no coming back from this, and that scares me worse than anything.
Later, we’re walking along the boardwalk. The pier smells like sugar and smoke, and some of the noise from the carnival is muffled as we walk further away, watching the beach. Hundreds of lanterns are being lit. Ian leans against the railing, watching as they begin to lift.
They rise into the night. Reds and golds. Their reflections make the ocean look like it’s on fire.
Ian watches as they lift into the sky. There’s this softness about him now that wasn’t there before this week. He seems so relaxed.
“I’m going to miss this place,” he says.
“Yeah.” I’m going to miss a lot of things once this is over. “Me too.”
He turns to me. “I’m sorry about the start of this trip. But I’ve had the best time. Thank you. For pushing me, having patience with me, everything.” His arms wrap around my waist. My heart screams at me to say the words my mouth won’t.
I love you.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks me quietly.
Nothing. Everything. The fact that I’m falling and don’t know whether I’m falling alone.
He kisses me again. Gentle and searching. “You okay?”
No.
But I nod anyway.
“I’m okay,” I lie. “Just thinking about how good this week’s been.”
He smiles, unaware of the war inside me. When he kisses me again it’s careful, but deeper. Heat curls low in my belly. The world keeps moving around us, but I’m frozen in this moment. It’s only him and me.
When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine.
We watch the lanterns disappear into the dark.
Then he turns his back to me, and I take the opportunity to pull him against my chest with my arms wrapped around his waist. My chin rests on his shoulder as we watch the lanterns float and glow through the air.
It’s beautiful.
And I don’t know how to survive not having this forever.